


Do It For Her

by late_night_writer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, Iron Dad, Kid Fic, Kid Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, inspired by a tumblr post, other characters and relationships to be added, spider son
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/late_night_writer/pseuds/late_night_writer
Summary: "Sir, there appears to be a woman in great distress outside the building. She identifies herself as Mary Parker.""Did... did you say Mary?"-In which, on behalf of the wishes of a dying Mary Parker, Tony Stark decides to raise her son Peter.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark had not seen Mary nor Richard Parker in years. Though, when he knew them, she was Mary Fitzpatrick and he was Richie Parker, and they were both young and just a little reckless. Mary Fitzpatrick… young, beautiful, and absolutely unattainable. Mary and Richard hadn’t so much as crossed Tony’s mind since he’d received an invitation to their wedding in 1998. He didn’t attend, of course—he’d been out of the country, negotiating weapons deals in attempt to keep the legacy of Stark Industries alive. It had suffered quite a blow following the death of Howard Stark and the subsequent passing of the company to Obadiah before ultimately falling to Tony himself. Despite dealing with the industry and its issues, he found the time to send a gift, and in return received a thank-you card complete with a picture of the smiling duo, dressed to the nines for their wedding.

It was a rainy night on the first of March. Tony couldn’t say exactly how late it was, given the fact that he hadn’t looked at a clock for quite some time, but the sun had long since set and the blackness of night had enveloped the exterior of the mansion. Tony, as usual, was set up in his workshop, tinkering away on his latest project. Happy had left quite some time before and Tony was entertaining sending Pepper home for the night—he had nothing left for her to do, and likely wouldn’t until the following day. Yes… yes, he should send Pepper home. He was in the middle of screwing in a component of his project when J.A.R.V.I.S.’ voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. started, “there appears to be a woman in great distress outside the building. She identifies herself as Mary Parker.”

Tony’s hands froze, his eyes darting upwards, focusing on the papers scattered across his desk. “Did… did you say Mary?”

“Yes, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. confirmed.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., show me the current security footage from out front.” Tony pushed himself up as he gave the command, and no sooner had the words left his mouth did a holographic screen appear in front of him. The image on the screen was startling at first glance—there was blood. A lot of blood. It was matted into Mary’s dark hair, running down the arm she was using to pound on the front door, staining the lower front of her powder blue dress and running down her legs. The rain hadn’t seemed to help the situation; whatever wounds she had were new, and the bleeding wasn’t slowing. She wasn’t wearing shoes, her feet covered in mud and loose blades of grass.

“Tony!” she called, her voice slightly distorted by the audio on footage. Her tone verged on hysterical, her eyes wild on the recording. “Tony, please! Open up!”

Tony didn’t stay in the workshop for much longer, sprinting out the glass door and making his way to the elevator, aggressively slamming the button to take the elevator upwards. The at most ten seconds it took for the elevator to bring him to the ground floor of the house felt like an eternity. When the doors finally parted in front of him, he darted between them, startling a noticeably confused Pepper.

“Tony, what is going on?” she questioned, quickly turning on her heel to keep up with him. “There is a woman at the door _screaming_ , I didn’t know what to do so I—”

“It’s okay,” Tony cut her off. “I know who she is… old friend.” The words left his mouth in a frenzy, practically tripping over themselves in an attempt to explain. It would take too long. How could he possibly explain Mary Fitzpatrick—Mary _Parker_ —in so little time? The short answer to that question was that he couldn’t. So instead, he let Pepper follow him to the foyer and lay witness to what was to happen as he flung open the door.

Mary Parker leaned against the outside wall, her right palm pressed flat against it to hold herself up. Her breathing appeared labored, her shoulders shaking with every exhale. Tony saw her only in pieces at first: steel gray eyes filled with terror, furrowed brow, black hair matted with blood, blood, so much blood, running down her arm from a gash at the wrist and dripping at the elbow. Blood, staining her dress, smeared across the hand holding her stomach, and—

Her stomach.

Mary’s left hand shook as she held her bulging stomach. Of course; she and Richard had been married for nearly three years, and Mary had always talked about wanting a family, but…

“Tony,” Mary said, though his name mostly came out in an exhale of relief.

“Mary?” Tony questioned, though had to react quickly as Mary reached out to him with her good arm. Once he had hold of her, she stumbled, leaving Tony struggling to pull her back to her feet. “Mary, Mary, Mary,” he said, over and over as he tried to steady her. “Mary, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Oh, God, Tony.” Mary’s voice was hardly audible. “He got us. He knows—he knows we were spying on him, oh God, oh God—”

“Mary, Mary, who? Who knows?”

“The Red Skull.” Mary shut her eyes tight, shaking as she spoke the words. “We were—Richard and I, we were assigned to infiltrate them and—and he _knows_ , God, he knows…”

“Okay,” Tony said to Mary before turning his attention to Pepper. “Pepper, could you give me a hand with her, please?”

Pepper, wide-eyed with a furrowed brow, grabbed ahold of Mary’s right arm, avoiding the open wound. With support on each side, Mary was able to remain upright for the most part. She took shaky step after shaky step, gripping tightly onto Tony while her bad arm hung loosely in Pepper’s hold.

“You said he _got_ you, Mary?” Tony started again. “What does that mean, what happened to you and Richard?”

“Richard…” Mary said, then stopped, swallowing before shaking her head back and forth. “Richard is gone, Tony, I couldn’t do anything, he was—he was gone like _that_.” Mary seemed to be holding back a sob, perhaps in an attempt to retain the final shred of her composure. “They sent someone in a car, I don’t—I don’t know who it was. They hit us head on.”

The news of Richard’s death would have to wait to have an affect on Tony; at the moment he was preoccupied. He simply nodded at the revelation and continued talking to Mary. “Alright, Mary, we’re gonna take you to the bathroom and get you nice and fixed up, and then we’re gonna phone an ambulance—”

“ _No_ ,” Mary insisted forcefully, taking both Tony and Pepper aback. “You can’t. If he finds out I survived, I—I can’t let that happen. I need… I need Peter to be okay.”

For a quick moment, Pepper and Tony’s eyes met in shared confusion.

Tony paused for a moment before speaking again. “Peter?” he questioned.

“Peter,” Mary confirmed. “Peter, the baby. I can’t have them find him, I don’t know what’ll happen to him, I don’t—I don’t—”

“Step up,” Tony instructed.

The trio had arrived in the bathroom. Tony intended on having Mary sit in the bath in order to catch the blood, and so he and Pepper could begin the process of getting her cleaned up. Mary stepped into the bath, squeezing Tony’s hand as if she were afraid he’d let go of her.

“Hey, Pep, you know where the first aid kit is?” Tony turned to face Pepper, and without a word she exited the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. That left him alone with Mary. Tony drew in a deep breath before exhaling it, returning his attention to his old friend. “Mary, we have to call an ambulance.”

Once again, Mary shook her head, eyes shut in defiance. “No,” she insisted. “No. If I thought there was any chance of Peter being safe, I would do it, but… they would find him, Tony, I know they would. I’d never be able to live with myself if anything happened to him. I just want—” Mary stopped mid-sentence, shutting her eyes tight and bringing a closed fist to her mouth.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., run a med scan on Mary,” Tony insisted, a panicked tone entering his voice.

“Young Miss has suffered a blow to the right temporal lobe and is showing signs of hemorrhaging. A slash on the wrist and rate of bleeding suggests signs of exsanguination. The left kneecap appears to be fractured, and Miss also appears to be in the later stages of labor. Prolonging any form of medical treatment will prove fatal.”

Tony gestured upwards as if to thank J.A.R.V.I.S. for proving his point. “Fatal! Mary, Peter is gonna need you. He’s already lost one parent tonight. He _needs_ you.”

Pepper returned with the first aid kit, though it became apparent that it wasn’t going to provide much use. Despite this, Tony fished a bandage from the kit and began wrapping it around the gash in Mary’s wrist. Mary, at the time, had begun to tremble. Once again, she brought a closed fist to her lips in attempt to mask the pain.

“Tony, Tony, _please_ promise me,” Mary started, stressing the words. “You… you have to look after Peter for me. You have to make sure he’s safe.”

“What?” Tony questioned, exasperated. “Mary, I can’t look after a _kid_!”

All attempts to articulate his thoughts after that were futile. How could Mary Fitzpatrick, perhaps one of the smartest people Tony had ever met, possibly think that he, a known playboy with a burgeoning drinking problem and a wild lifestyle, would be a good candidate to raise her son? In what way was Tony Stark at all kid-friendly? There were—in approximation—six million other people Tony could think of that would make a better parent than he would.

“Tony…” Mary intended to start a sentence with that, but once again stopped and clenched a fist to her mouth.

“Mary, I can’t! What… what about Richard’s brother?” Tony paused for a moment as the man’s name escaped his mind. “What was it? Ben? Yeah, Ben! He’s married, he doesn’t have any kids, he’d be perfect!”

Mary shook her head rapidly, swallowing before speaking again. “No, no. That’d be the first place they’d look. And I don’t… I can’t put Ben and May in danger, too. He’d be safe here, Tony, he’d be so safe, I know he would—”

The baby wasn’t born so much as he simply appeared, abrupt and without much warning. Tony’s first memory of the boy is on his mother’s chest, head turned away from the both of them, squalling in the way that only newborns can manage. His hair was brown like Richard’s. Not seeing the boy’s face, Tony couldn’t tell much else about his appearance.

“Oh, Peter. Peter, Peter…” Mary said, her voice barely above a whisper. “My Peter. My beautiful Peter Benjamin…”

“Mary, _please_ let me call an ambulance.”

Again, Mary shook her head. “No. Not until I’m gone.” Suddenly, Mary reached out, gripping tight around Tony’s wrist. “Tony, you have to keep him safe. Please keep him safe. Keep Peter safe. Please, please…”

Mary stopped, her eyes suddenly fixed on the wall in front of her. She took one sharp inhale, and then her grip loosened on Tony’s wrist, her hand falling limp into the tub.

Mary Parker had gone, leaving Tony with only the sounds of the pouring rain and her wailing baby son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm actually quite knowledgeable on the whole labor/childbirth process, and I know the way it's depicted in this chapter is not entirely accurate on how that goes down. I just figured I would mention it in case anyone was wondering.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter Parker lay in a pillowed basket, wrapped in a pale orange towel, content. He was wholly unaware that in the short time he’d been in this world he’d already lost everything. His eyes were still shut. He wrinkled his nose, yawned, stretched; he could do with some sleep. It’d been a long day. In close vicinity to him, he could hear the voices of two people he didn’t recognize.

Pepper had been the one to find the basket. It was wicker, and _had_ been a gift basket before she’d swiftly emptied it and placed quite a flimsy pillow inside. Pepper had also been the one to take Peter from his mother’s stiff arms—the poor boy hadn’t ceased crying until she swaddled him up in a towel she’d fished from the linen closet. Once he was settled in the basket and Pepper was able to get a good look at him, she realized he was quite cute. He had wisps of brown hair atop his head, pouty lips, and a little button nose. As for his looks, she couldn’t say who he resembled, as she had seen Mary for all of two minutes and had only heard Richard Parker’s name.

Tony hadn’t picked Peter up. In fact, after Mary had passed, he’d simply sat and stared at the boy, unable to do anything that might console his crying. It wasn’t much different after Pepper had swaddled him up and placed him in a basket. Tony stood in front of the basket, index finger curled in front of his lips. Peter… Peter _Benjamin_ , as Mary had named him. No doubt after Ben Parker. Tony hadn’t been aware that Richard and Ben were close enough to warrant naming their children after one another. The baby didn’t necessarily look like either Mary or Richard. Then again, most babies didn’t look like much of anything when they were born. The fact that a small human lying in a basket was the last remnant of Mary Parker was—

“Who was she?” Pepper interrupted.

Tony let his hand drop away from his mouth, turning his attention to his assistant. “What?” he questioned, though his voice was lacking a tone.

“Who was she?” Pepper repeated. “You said she was an old friend, but she seemed…” Pepper trailed off.

“No.” Tony dismissed the implication. “No, it wasn’t like that. I was close to Mary and Richard in college.”

“Oh.”

Following this revelation, the two were silent. Both watched the sleeping baby boy. Peter did not seem to mind this; he napped peacefully, sticking out his lower lip while he slept.

The remainder of March 1st would end up being persistently traumatic in Tony’s memory. He had called an ambulance after Mary had stopped breathing, holding onto the smallest bit of hope that maybe she could be resuscitated, make a recovery, raise her baby boy. But just as J.A.R.V.I.S. had predicted, all injuries she’d suffered were fatal, and at the time medical personnel arrived at the mansion there was nothing they could do for Mary but carry her out in a body bag. Tony had been there when they’d lifted her from the tub—her once-vibrant gray eyes were now blank and glassy. Tony knew the look of them would haunt them for the rest of his life.

The paramedics had looked at little Peter but found nothing wrong with him. He was extremely lucky in that regard—the smallest thing could’ve gone wrong, and all of Mary’s work would’ve been for nothing. What if Peter hadn’t been breathing when he was born? It wasn’t as if Tony could help him, and the risk Mary had taken to keep him safe would’ve been in vain. Mary would be dead and so would the last thing Tony had left of her. But it was pointless to wonder about it. Peter was alive and Mary wasn’t, and from the looks of it Peter was alright.

The paramedics had left, a police report had been filed, pictures had been taken of the bathroom, and Tony had handed over the security footage featuring Mary. Pepper and Tony were alone with Peter, and both grossly unprepared to care for him. For the moment Peter was content, but they knew that wouldn’t last for long.

Tony rubbed circles into his temples with his forefingers. He hadn’t yet adjusted to the situation, at least not fully. There was a baby in front of him—that was easy to understand. That baby was Mary and Richard Parker’s baby—a bit strange, but not too much of a stretch for him to grasp. Richard and Mary Parker had died and their baby was now in his possession—that’s what seemed to be tripping Tony up the most. An hour ago he’d been in his workshop without a care in the world, and now he’d seen Mary Parker die and her baby son orphaned. It was too much to process all at once.

“Pepper,” Tony started, though quickly realized he had no idea where the sentence was going from there. After a brief pause that left him stuttering for what he was going to say next, he said, “I will pay you triple overtime for you to go out and buy the kid whatever he needs.”

Pepper’s voice came quiet as she kept her eyes on Peter. “Like what?”

“Like what—?” Tony threw his arms out in unknowing, palms turned upwards. “I don’t know! Clothes? Diapers? He’s sitting here wrapped in a towel,” he gestured to Peter as he spoke the words. “I don’t know what to do with him, Pep, I’m—”

“Okay, alright, I’ll go.” Pepper took a step away from Tony and the baby.

This left Peter alone with Tony. Neither seemed to know what to do with the other, though in Peter’s defense he was—in addition to being unaware of his surroundings—in the middle of a nap. Tony only paced a few feet in front of the basket, fingers curled in front of his mouth as he kept an eye on the boy. Peter was grunting quietly in his sleep, his upper lip twitching slightly.

Tony had yet to hold the boy—he hadn’t so much as touched him, and wasn’t planning on doing so any time soon. It wasn’t as if he disliked the boy or anything of that sort. His reasoning for this was a strange mixture of simply not _wanting_ to and feeling that it would be wrong to do so. He shouldn’t have been the one responsible for the boy: that should’ve been May and Ben, his own family, not someone who knew his parents once-upon-a-time in the good old days…

Peter remained content for short while. At the point in which the baby started to cry, Tony had taken a seat across the room from the basket, but had yet to take his eyes off it. His attention snapped to Peter with the boy’s first whine, Tony freezing in place as if him sitting still would prevent the boy from bursting into tears. Peter began to wail just as he had when he was first born, the kind of inconsolable cry only displayed by newborn babies. Tony pushed himself to his feet before taking slow steps towards the baby.

Peter was fighting against the loosely swaddled towel, pushing his arms outwards in attempt to free himself. Tony’s first thought was to call Pepper.

“Tony?” Pepper’s tone was concerned on the other end of the line. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Peter?”

“He’s crying,” Tony responded.

Pepper paused for a moment. “That’s all?” she questioned, an ounce of irritation entering her voice. “Tony, pick him up! He’s probably lonely.”

Tony shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

“Tony,” Pepper sighed, her patience clearly wearing thin. “You can’t just leave him there and let him cry. He’ll start to think that no one is coming to take care of him. They’ve done studies, babies who don’t get held grow up without emotions, and they end up becoming criminals and psychopaths, and I really don’t think that’s what Mary had in mind for her son—”

“ _Alright_ ,” Tony cut her off, eyes still fixed on the crying baby. “Okay. I’ll pick him up.”

Tony promptly hung up the phone, giving the boy his full attention. Peter was flailing desperately in his basket, rocking from left to right atop the pillow. Tony reached for him, hesitated for a moment or so, and then picked the baby up. Peter stopped struggling against the towel, and his crying lessened a small amount, as if he were confused at having actually been picked up.

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, bouncing the boy a little. “Hey. Don’t cry.”

The baby, not understanding the implication of the words, continued to cry.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shh.” Tony wasn’t exactly sure what to say to the baby to calm him down. Obviously Peter would have no idea what he was saying, so what good was it going to do? But Tony continued to speak to him anyway.

Peter, still not completely content, continued to whine and squirm in Tony’s arms. It wasn’t until Peter reached out and gripped onto one of Tony’s fingers by chance that he quieted. It was as if he finally realized that he was in the company of another person and in his head said, ‘oh. Alright then’. Tony had to admit that when the baby wasn’t crying, he was quite cute. Peter closed his eyes and buried his head near his blanket, concealing his mouth. Tony watched the boy, willing him to remain quiet and happy and sleepy.

When Pepper returned to the Malibu mansion, she was greeted by the sight of a sleeping baby boy swaddled protectively in a dozing Tony Stark’s arms.

—

It didn’t take long for baby Peter to become comfortable in his home. Well, his _temporary_ home, as Tony insisted. Nevertheless, Pepper had not disappointed when she’d shopped for the boy, bringing home everything he could possibly need. Stark mansion was looking less like the home of an inventor and more like the residence of a frazzled, extremely unprepared new parent. The ground floor was littered with impossibly tiny clothes, stuffed toys, baby blankets, used bottles with dribbles of formula collecting at the bottom, and countless other items that Tony had no idea the boy would even need.

Peter didn’t really do much. This shouldn’t have surprised Tony; it wasn’t as if the boy was _capable_ of doing anything but sleeping and eating, and yet the baby took up the majority of he and Pepper’s time. Peter enjoyed his swing; someone—usually Pepper—would swaddle the boy up and turn the swing on low, and this would buy Tony a chunk of time that was usually large enough to fine tune the details of his latest projects.

Tony kept the firm mentality that Peter was not going to be living with him permanently. Had Mary not looked him in the eyes during her last moments of life and begged him to keep her son safe, he would’ve handed the boy over to Ben and May immediately. There was a nagging thought at the back of Tony’s head, eating away no matter how much he threw himself into his work: what if he were to send the boy to his aunt and uncle, and Hydra were to find him? What if Mary was right in her assumption that they would come after him? He couldn’t send the boy to May and Ben only to have him die—he didn’t need that on his conscience. This left him in a perpetual state of uncertainty of what would happen to the boy. Despite the fact that Tony only viewed Peter as a temporary resident, it could be more than possible that the boy would stay indefinitely.

Peter—more commonly known as ‘the boy’ or ‘the baby’, to Tony, at least—had become quite attached to Pepper within his first few weeks at the mansion. Perhaps it was because he mistook her for Mary, or maybe it was just because she’d become a maternal presence in his life. Nevertheless the feeling seemed to be mutual.

“Hey, Pep?” Tony had asked upon entering the ground level one morning to find her tapping away on the keyboard of her laptop.

“Yes?” she responded, her eyes not even leaving the screen of her computer.

“It seems like you’ve got a tiny human stuck to you.”

Pepper briefly peered down at her chest. Peter was resting in a powdery green sling, grunting happily and sticking his chubby fists in his mouth. After seeing that Peter was alright, her attention returned to her work.

“It’s good for them to be held, and to be close to people,” she informed, again without turning her attention away from the computer. “I read about it. Mothers usually do skin to skin, but since Mary never got the chance, I figured this would be the next best thing.” Pepper paused for a moment, her fingers doing the same at the keys. “Not exactly skin to skin, but it’s better than leaving him in a swing all day.”

Though her tone sounded indifferent, Tony saw through this. He gave a short laugh at the idea that Pepper was becoming attached to Peter. “Well, he seems to enjoy it,” Tony pointed out, and then disappeared into the lab.

Pepper did more of the parenting to Peter than Tony. It had been Pepper’s idea to keep a record of Peter, to take photos of him nearly every day and to store them in a folder in J.A.R.V.I.S’ systems (to transfer over to Ben and May when the time came, she justified). Even with her workload, she made sure that Peter received the proper attention and that he was developing accordingly.

“You know,” Pepper started one morning when their paths happened to cross. “You should really spend more time with him.”

Tony poured himself a mug of coffee without making eye contact. “I’m not kid-friendly.”

“Tony, Mary wanted you to look after him. You hardly ever come in to see him. I know that I’m your personal assistant but I didn’t sign up to be parenting a child here.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point. Tony, I have other things to worry about. I cannot be at this house 24/7, and it’s obvious that you’re not going to hand him over to Ben and May anytime soon. What do you do when I’m not here?”

Though he didn’t say, Tony knew Pepper was right. When Pepper was at the house he handed Peter over without question, relieved to have someone else looking after him. He _did_ look after Peter when Pepper wasn’t there—he kept the baby within close proximity to himself, glancing over at him at _least_ five times a minute. He may not have been good with children, or have any idea how to interact with them, but the boy was the last living bit of Mary Fitzpatrick. Nothing bad was going to happen to him on Tony’s watch.

“Relax,” Tony said before taking a sip of his coffee. “I take good care of him. And Dum-E’s a good babysitter when he needs to be.”

“You have _Dum-E_ look after Peter?” Pepper asked incredulously.

“He just _watches_ him, he lets me know if he starts crying, it’s not like I have him _pick him up_ or anything—”

“I can’t _believe_ you—”

Peter interrupted both of them with a coo, as if he was attempting to join the conversation. At the time he was resting in a bouncer in close proximity to where Pepper was standing. This seemed to effectively end their conversation. Peter seemed to be happy no matter who was looking after him.

Pepper sighed. “I have to go,” she said. “Look after Peter. Don’t just stick him on Dum-E. Hold him, talk to him… try not to stay up the whole night working on anything.”

“Hey, I was sleep-deprived before Peter came along,” Tony pointed out.

Pepper ignored this comment. “Just take care of him, will you?”

“Will do.”

With that, Tony was left alone with Peter yet again.


End file.
